To thee I lift my voice; to thee address The plaint which mortal ear has never heard. Buried, my Douglas, in thy bloody grave, Enter Lord RANDOLPH. Again these weeds of woe! say, dost thou well "Lord R. When was it pure of sadness! These black weeds "Express the wonted colour of thy mind, "For ever dark and dismal. Seven long years "Are pass'd, since we were join'd by sacred ties : Clouds all the while have hung upon thy brow, "Nor broke, nor parted by one gleam of joy." Time, that wears out the trace of deepest anguish, "As the sea smoothes the prints made in the sand," Has pass'd o'er thee in vain. (6 Lady R. If time to come "Should prove as ineffectual, yet, my lord, "Thou cans't not blame me. youth When our Scottish "Vy'd with each other for my luckless love, "Oft I besought them, I implor'd them all "Not to assail me with my father's aid, "Nor blend their better destiny with mine. "For melancholy had congeal'd my blood, "And froze affection in my chilly breast. "At last my Sire, rous'd with the base attempt "To force me from him, which thou rend'red'st vain, "To his own daughter bow'd his hoary head, 66 Besought me to commiserate his age, "And vow'd he should not, could not die in peace, "Unless he saw me wedded, and secur'd "From violence and outrage. Then, my lord! extreme distress I call'd on thee, "In my "Thee I bespake, profess'd my strong desire "And begg'd thy Nobleness, not to demand "Nor more to thee than to myself injurious. "But had'st a spark of other passions in thee, "Pride, anger, vanity, the strong desire 74 But thy known v Shrink to my grav I feel thy pangs of "Is it not pity tha "That all his won "And the world no Give me thy sorrow And shelter thee fr Lav. Oh, my bro Think not but we w We'll sit all day, an And when we light Some beauty, like C We'll fix our grief, We'll curse the nym And mourn the you dy R. If time to come id prove as ineffectual, yet, my lord, a cans't not blame me. youth When our Scottish with each other for my luckless love, t my Sire, rous'd with the base attempt ce me from him, which thou rend'red'st vain, own daughter bow'd his hoary head, ht me to commiserate his age, row'd he should not, could not die in peace, he saw me wedded, and secur'd violence and outrage. Then, my lord! extreme distress I call'd on thee, I bespake, profess'd my strong desire d a single, solitary life, erg'd thy Nobleness, not to demand a wife whose heart was dead to love. Thou persisted'st after this, thou know'st, nust confess that I am not unjust, ore to thee than to myself injurious. R. That I confess; yet ever must regret ef I cannot cure." Would thou wert not of grief and tenderness alone, 1'st a spark of other passions in thee, anger, vanity, the strong desire "Of admiration, dear to woman-kind; "These might contend with, and allay thy grief, "As meeting tides and currents smooth our firth. "Lady R. To such a cause the human mind oft Owes "Its transient calm, a calm I envy not." Lord R. Sure thou art not the daughter of Sir Mal-` colm: my fathers: Strong was his rage, eternal his resentment: Lord R. Thy grief wrests to its purposes my words. I never ask'd of thee that ardent love Which in the breasts of fancy's children burns. Lady R. Thou dost not think so: woeful as I am, |